


Yes, I've got heartaches by the number

by iriswallpaper



Series: Heartaches By The Number [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Emotional Infidelity, Infidelity, M/M, Mary meddles, Morally Ambiguous Character, Season/Series 03, Why Mary shot Sherlock, Why Sherlock and John didn't speak for a month, everyone is morally bankrupt, scenes in between/concurrent with S3 on-screen events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 21:14:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5717365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iriswallpaper/pseuds/iriswallpaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John hasn't heard from Sherlock in ages. He thinks Sherlock is angry that John broke off their affair. The real reason is much more dark, devious, and closer to home</p><p> </p><p>Scene-based fics that are concurrent with events in S3. This is not an S3 fix-it fic.</p><p>HEED THE TAGS because everyone is morally bankrupt in this fic.</p><p>Title from the song "Heartaches by the Number."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yes, I've got heartaches by the number

**Author's Note:**

> Various POVs in this chapter - John, Mary, Sherlock
> 
> I know absolutely nothing about hacking, so please don't laugh if Mary's methods of hacking are completely off base.
> 
> Unbetaed so please excuse my mistakes.

_Heartaches by the number, troubles by the score_  
_Everyday you love me less, each day I love you more_  
_Yes, I've got heartaches by the number, a love that I can't win_  
_But the day that I stop counting, that's the day my world will end_

 

John bounced on the balls of his feet while he waited for the people in front of him to clear the jetway. He was holding his wallet and phone and had a backpack slung over his shoulder. Finally - finally - the elderly couple in front of them stepped over the threshold to the gate and shuffled aside. John thrust his things at Mary. “I have to piss like a racehorse. Hold these, meet you at the bathrooms.” And with that, he took off down the terminal at a race walk pace.

Mary dumped her purse plus John’s things in the first empty seat she found. She held down the ON button on John’s phone. It vibrated to life and pinged a long series of texts - they hadn’t had service while they were on holiday, so John hadn’t checked his texts in weeks. She thumbed the text icon: 32 texts from Sherlock, a couple from Harry, one from Lestrade. She deleted all but the last two texts from Sherlock without reading them. Next she opened his voicemail. 15 messages from Sherlock. She deleted all of those, then cleared John’s call log. That should do it.

John approached just after Mary had shut down his phone and began to gather their things. “I’m sorry, Mary. I shouldn't have dumped my stuff on you like that. Here, let me.” John took everything from her except for her purse. He paused to turn on his phone then frowned at it briefly. “Look at that, Sherlock texted me when he knew we were out of range.’ John smiled slightly at the phone. When he glanced up at Mary, his smile faded and he pocketed the phone. “I’ll, uh, call him later.” 

Mary gave him a bright, innocent smile.

 

~*~

 

They’d had a nap and made dinner and now John was half asleep in front of the telly. Mary was sat at the dining room table with her laptop. She’d told John she wanted to catch up on email after their holiday. She opened a new tab and wrote a few lines of code, then another tab for their mobile phone provider’s website. The telecom website’s security was a joke and she had no problem hacking it then using it as a portal to hack their mainframe. In less than half an hour, she’d inserted code into John’s mobile phone’s account to redirect all incoming calls and texts from Sherlock’s number to a pay-by-the-minute mobile phone she’d bought and activated just before the wedding. It was now tucked inside her oldest, shabbiest bra at the back of her delicates drawer.

A glance into the living room told her John was now fast asleep. She typed in a few more lines of code to ensure that all calls he made and texts he sent to Sherlock’s number were also redirected to the burner’s mobile number. 

Now all she’d have to do was turn off John’s phone and turn it back on for her changes to take effect. She tiptoed to the living room and sighed in relief when she saw John’s phone sitting on the sofa cushion beside him. She pressed the button to turn it off, waited 30 seconds, then pressed it again to turn it back on. The phone buzzed twice to confirm the modifications had downloaded. 

John snoozed on.

~*~

The’d been home three days when the doorbell sounded mid afternoon. Mary answered it to find Sherlock on their stoop. “Hello, Sherlock,” she pipped with a dazzling smile. “How are you?”

Sherlock shifted from one foot to the other. He cleared his throat. “I haven’t heard from either of you since you returned. I’ve texted John repeatedly but he hasn’t responded.”

Mary gave Sherlock a look of concern. “I’m sorry. We’ve been busy shopping for baby things and settling back in at work. John’s at the surgery now. Want to come in for tea?” 

Sherlock drew himself up to his full height. “I’m in a bit of a hurry. I was hoping for John’s help on a case.” Mary had gathered as much from his body language and knew she was in no danger of Sherlock accepting her invitation to tea.

Mary wrinkled her nose at him. “I’ll tell him you were here. Maybe he can come along once he gets off? I’m sure he just put his phone in his desk drawer while he’s seeing patients.”

Sherlock was already down the steps and halfway toward the waiting cab by the time Mary finished. He waved as he got into the cab then slammed the door.

Mary shut the door softly.

“Mary? Was that the doorbell?” John’s voice drifted in from the back porch, where he was struggling to assemble the barbecue grill they’d received as a wedding gift.

“Just a door to door salesman,” Mary replied. She turned the deadbolt with a dazzling smile.

 

~*~ 

“It’s the oddest thing, Mary. I’ve called Sherlock, I’ve texted, but nothing. Nothing since the texts he left when he knew we were on holiday.” John’s voice betrayed his frustration. 

Mary patted his hand soothingly. “I’m sure he’s just busy. He probably has some big case on. You know how he blocks out everything else when he’s working.”

John shook his head. “But I told him nothing would change. That we’d still do things.”

“He’s trying to respect your new status as a family man. Trying to give you a bit of space.”

John raised his eyebrows. “Think so?”

Mary nodded, wrinkling her nose charmingly. “Yeah. You know how he can be sweet in his own funny way. I’m sure that’s it.”

John sighed. “I hope you’re right.”

“Why don’t you call him again in the morning?” Mary widened her eyes, the picture of a concerned, helpful wife.

John turned over and pulled the duvet to his chest. “Yeah, I’ll call him again. I’m sure he’s fine.”

~*~

Mary was at the supermarket when her phone rang. She answered with a smile in her voice. “Sherlock! How have you been?” 

“Mary.” Sherlock sounded serious.

“What’s up?” Mary said brightly.

“I am checking on John. He still is not returning my calls or texts.” Sherlock paused. Mary could hear him breathing. “I thought perhaps he might be upset that I left your wedding early.”

“Oh? Left early, did you?” Mary smiled to herself. “It’s all such a blur, I don’t recall. I’m sure John’s not offended.”

“Well, can you give him a message? I have a case I’m sure would interest him.”

Mary put a smile in her voice. “Sure, will do, Sherlock. Listen, I’m grocery shopping right now so I have to run. I’ll make sure he gets the message.”

“All right. Thanks, Mary.”

“No problem Sherlock.. Bye!” 

Mary jabbed the OFF button with her thumb and murmured to herself, “As if I’d pass that along.”

 

~*~

“I think I’m going to stop by Baker Street on the way home. I’m starting to get really concerned about Sherlock.” John was leaning on the edge of the nurses’ station. He’d cycled to work today since his shift started and ended before Mary’s and he’d been too busy to even speak to her until now.

Mary looked up from the chart in which she’d been writing. “You’re going to ride your bike to Baker Street?” She sounded incredulous.

John considered. “I guess I hadn’t thought it out. I could carry it on the Tube. Or you could take it home. Do you have the bike rack in the boot?”

Mary shook her head and went back to her charting. “No, it’s at home. Maybe you could go by tomorrow after work if you haven’t heard from him.”

“I’m afraid he’s really pissed at me. We had a little disagreement at the wedding. We left things a little rough, but then he made that little speech after he played for our first dance and I thought everything was okay. But I looked for him later that night, and he’d gone. Without a word, didn’t even say goodbye. And now it’s been a month and he still doesn’t return my calls or texts.” John licked his lips and looked away.

Mary reached over and patted his hand. “I’m sure it’s fine, John. You know Sherlock. He probably has a big case on and has forgotten there’s anything else in the world.”

“Yeah, I do. But something feels off about this.” John pursed his lips and sighed. “I’m afraid he’s truly upset with me.”

Mary turned bright eyes on John. “What did you argue about? At our wedding, for God’s sake. What was there to fight over at a wedding?”

John looked away before answering. “Just some old stuff.” 

Mary laughed. “What, he’s mad you won’t come by to find his pen, or clean the loo, or make him tea every morning?”

“Yeah, old stuff like that.” John tried to smile but it came out as a grimace.

 

~*~ 

 

A month with no communication, John acting like a jealous son of a bitch over Janine sleeping in his bedroom, Janine playing along beautifully with constant innuendos, the Magnussen case and now John acting completely shocked at his marriage proposal via security camera. It was certainly now Christmas. Sherlock stepped out of the elevator with a smug grin. Perhaps he would still have a chance to hook John after all. And if this morning was an indicator of how happy John was with married life, Sherlock was confused why he’d stayed away so long.

They stepped out of the lift to find Janine knocked out cold, then also a knocked out security guard. Sherlock left John to tend to them while he sprinted up the stairs to Magnuson’s penthouse. Adrenalin surged through his system - the game certainly was on and with John beside him, it would be so much fun.

Sherlock sniffed as he took the stairs two at a time to the penthouse. A sweet, familiar perfume filled the air. He knew that sent - Lady Smallwood, the client who’d sent him after Magnussen, nearly bathed in it. The door stood ajar. Sherlock could see Lady Smallwood pointing a pistol with a silencer attached at Magnussen, who cowered on his knees before her. He could hear Magnussen murmuring.

Sherlock stepped into the room as he spoke. “Additionally, if you’re going to commit murder, you might want to consider changing your perfume.” Sherlock paused for dramatic effect. “Lady Smallwood.”

The black-clad woman didn’t react. She held her gun level on Magnussen and kept her back toward Sherlock. Magnussen glanced at Sherlock, surprised. “Sorry, who? That’s not Lady Smallwood, Mr. Holmes.”

Lady Smallwood turned her gun before she turned her face. Now looking down the barrel of a presumably loaded pistol, Sherlock stared into the coolly composed face of Mary Watson. Sherlock’s mouth dropped open. He quickly reviewed his many deductions about Mary, words flashing around the image he’d built of her in his mind palace. Yes, he’d deduced she was a liar - but wasn’t everybody? That deduction hardly merited attention. But now, to find her holding Magnussen at gunpoint, dressed in black and wearing a tactical vest? His world tilted.

“Is John with you?” Mary sounded so composed, so casual.

Sherlock stuttered, utterly stunned. “He’s umm.”

Mary’s steely-calm voice rang out. “Is John here?” 

“He - he’s downstairs.” Sherlock could barely form words in his shock-numbed mind.

Magnussen spoke calmly for a man kneeling with a pistol to his head, “So, what do you do now? Kill us both?”

Sherlock began to speak, using the soothing voice he’d perfected to calm witnesses at particularly gruesome crime scenes. “Mary, whatever he’s got on you, let me help.” 

“Oh, Sherlock, just how stupid do you think I am?” Mary’s voice was full of annoyance. “You must believe I’m as dim as John thinks I am.”

Sherlock didn’t answer, just shifted his weight from foot to foot and kept his gaze locked with Mary’s.

Mary gestured toward Sherlock with the gun. “What do you think? I don’t know you’re banging my husband? Or is he buggering you? Either way, do you really think you’re getting something over on me?”

Sherlock made a soothing sound in his throat. He made a half step toward Mary.

“Oh, Sherlock, if you take one more step I swear I will kill you.” Mary sounded like a mother whose toddler had frayed her last nerve.

Sherlock shook his head. “No, Mrs. Watson, you won’t.” He lifted a foot in another forward half-step only to be stopped by a bloom of pain in his chest. Sherlock stared at the black hole in his white dress shirt. It started to trickle a thick crimson line toward his waistband. He lifted his eyes and gave Mary a look of utter dismay.

“I’m sorry, Sherlock. I truly am. But John is mine, and I don’t share.”

“Mary?” Sherlock’s mind can’t seem to process what had transpired in the last thirty seconds. 

Mary turned her back to face Magnussen just as Sherlock fell backward and his world went black.

 

“


End file.
